


Cursed

by Phoebsfan



Series: The Wheel [2]
Category: Penny Dreadful (TV)
Genre: AU, Angst, F/M, Past Lives, Reincarnation
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-05-30
Updated: 2018-05-30
Packaged: 2019-05-16 00:22:08
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death, Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 1
Words: 8,673
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14800754
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Phoebsfan/pseuds/Phoebsfan
Summary: Prequel to Penny Dreadful and The Wheel.  What put the wheel in motion. Vanessa and Ethan before there was a Vanessa and Ethan.





	Cursed

**Author's Note:**

> This is a kind of origin story that fits in with The Wheel and of course the series. It's basically my head canon to how the whole thing started. There probably won't be anymore added to it but I'm not going to say it's not possible that I add an adventure or two down the line. If I do so, the characters will change... but also stay the same because... well if you've read The Wheel and watched the show you know.

 

 

 

 

_You can't change what you are. No matter who you save or who you love._

_Ethan Chandler_

 

 

 

In the beginning he was the captain of her guard; handpicked to guard the most priced possession of a god. A god who would bless him with the strength and speed of a hound. His only responsibility was to guard her, though he'd known from the beginning he was not protecting her from danger.

 

Amunet was never in danger from anyone except the jealous god who hid her beauty from all.

 

Day after day, he watched her in silence. More warden than guard. Protecting her virtue for Amun, a god who kept her like a treasure or a secret. Hiding her away and never noticing the sadness she hid behind her eerie blue eyes. She saw no one, except a few handmaidens, her consort, and him.

 

He was the only male that Amun let into her private chambers, and any others who saw her face were executed. Even her handmaidens were not allowed to address her directly, and should one have tried she would have found the task impossible. To serve the beautiful goddess meant losing one's tongue.

 

He was the only exception to that rule, and only because Amun needed him to be able to report on her activities should the need arise. In his altered state he couldn't ever find the words to speak anyway.

 

The handmaidens were afraid of him; with his sharp teeth and claws he was more beast than man. She was the only one who didn't seem to notice. She never once flinched from the time Amun left him with her and his instructions to keep her safe.

 

She'd tried to get him to talk to her in the beginning. Who was he? Where did he come from? He had known better than to respond.

 

Amun would visit her once a day back then. He would remove the beast long enough to collect a report, then with a flick of the god's wrist the beast would once more take over. He still remembered the awe on Amunet's lovely face after that first transformation.

 

Amun had laughed and asked if she'd thought his hound had always been such a beast. He'd pressed her back into her bed and when she'd objected at the presence of another man, the god had laughed once more and asked her if she was shy around other dogs as well. Still he'd pulled the curtain around them and though it blocked the sight, it had done little to muffle the sounds.

 

As Amun was leaving that day, she asked the god what name she should use to address her new guardian. He told her that the beast didn't have a name, it was just a dumb dog. It was partially true, he had never known his name, if he'd ever had one to begin with. He was born a slave, and would die a slave. It had been an honor to be pulled from the backbreaking work of hauling stone to the build site. A relief to no longer be thrown into the pits with other men and instructed to kill each other for the benefit of his masters. He was more than grateful to spend his life sleeping on the floor beside her bed. He had always been theirs and his name had changed as his position in life had.

 

She had tried a few different names but ended up back at Hound. Though it sounded much sweeter from her lips than from Amun's.

 

“Hound, what shall we do?” She would ask him as she stretched her arms above her head and then swung her feet to the floor. The sun streaming into the room and bouncing off her dark sleep ruffled hair.

 

“Do you miss the sun on your face, Hound?” From the railing of her balcony. Her eyes lost on some point in the distance.

 

“Which color do you prefer, Hound?” With a smile as she held up two gowns to her fair skin.

 

“Hound, do you think Amun will visit today?”

 

That last began so hopeful but turning more sad as the years progressed.

 

Her beauty never faded, her voice never cracked with age and though her handmaidens withered and died, she stayed the same.

 

He also never changed, another gift of the beast, he supposed.

 

But Amun changed. He grew tired of her as he did with most things. No longer visiting every day; her soft sweet voice became less frequent. There were days when not a word passed those lips and she lay so still he'd climb up next to her to see if her heart still beat and breath still filled her lungs.

 

Amun's absence did not bother him, he was used to the quiet and he had no one he wished to talk with, other than the beauty who smiled so sadly at him each day. He only missed her voice, was only upset by the lack of life in her eyes. Only wished that when he curled on the bed next to her and she buried her face in his fur he could offer her some kind of comfort.

 

“Oh Hound, I wish he would come back,” she sighed one morning when she'd been left alone for what had to be months. It was hard to keep track anymore. “I wish he would let me go. If I no longer make him happy why does he keep me here?”

 

He rested his head close to her face, his cold nose brushing her soft cheek. She turned to face him and tangled her fingertips in the fur behind his ears.

 

“You could come with me. You could show me everything from your life before this.”

 

He wouldn't dream of showing her what he knew, but if she wanted to be free he would go with her. It was his job to keep her safe and he knew what could happen to a beautiful woman alone in the world. Not to mention one as innocent and pure. One with her connections.

 

The thought alone made his fur rise and she giggled and rested her forehead against his.

 

“Do you want to stay then? All alone. Is this pretty cage really what you want?”

 

For the first time, he wished he could speak with her. Wished he could tell her that he didn't want her caged, he just wanted her safe. Wished he could speak whatever words she wanted to hear just so the sadness would leave her voice. But all that escaped was a rough bark, and a low howl.

 

She pulled back, stunned. Sometimes she forgot he was a man under all the fur especially when it had been so long since Amun had changed him.

 

“You've never tried that before,” she said as she pulled her legs under her and tilted her head to the side.

 

She watched and he felt embarrassed for what he was and for daring to try and communicate. He would never be good enough for her and if Amun ever found out he would lose more than his tongue. So he hopped from the bed and made his way out to the balcony to save face.

 

“Don't feel bad. I get so lonely and sometimes I forget,” she called after him but he kept his body turned from her. She waited for a response but when she received none she turned her back to him and curled up on the bed.

 

He pretended not to hear her tears, but each one cut into his soul until eventually she fell asleep. He was careful not to disturb her when he jumped on the bed next to her and fell asleep. By the time she woke the next morning he made certain he was back on the floor next to the bed instead.

 

Amun returned the next morning and for the first time since that very first morning when he was changed back to his original form, he felt her eyes burn on his naked skin as he gave his report. They didn't feel like awe this time though. And so for the first time he kept something from his master.

 

There was a new threat, and the pain of the transformation didn't feel like an honor anymore.

 

When Amun left them he tried to ignore the sound of her tears, but they grew too distracting and as he nudged the curtain to the side with his nose he saw the marks on her arms and legs.

 

“Why don't you fight him,” she growled before turning her back to him. Hanging his head in shame, he left her alone. He didn't know how to protect her from Amun. Amun was a god. He created life. Transformed life. The Hound knew if he tried to stand against Amun she would be left completely alone.

 

He could not leave her without any kind of companionship, though that was what he was doing by staying silent.

 

He howled in dismay and she turned to face him again.

 

“Is that an apology,” she asked as he nudged her arm gently. He barked and she smiled and slid over on the bed. He tried not to notice the rips in her dress as he jumped up and grabbed a silken sheet between his teeth, tugged it over her to cover the parts of her that her gown no longer did.

 

“Does this mean you'll talk to me now?”

 

He barked again.

 

And so they began a limited kind of friendship. She would ask him questions and he would respond in the only way he could and it was enough for a little while.

 

She'd get up in the mornings. She'd smile and laugh. His favorite was when she'd let him rest his head in her lap as she read some of the stolen texts she'd convinced one of her handmaidens to smuggle her. Amun didn't like it when she read things, he didn't like her to know things. Which only made the Hound dislike him more.

 

He had no training in texts, but he could see it didn't harm anything to let Amunet read them. It made her happy and sometimes she would read them aloud to him or point at the pictographs and explain what they meant until he could recognize them too. Even if he could never tell her she seemed to understand and eventually she would tilt the scrolls so he could read along with her.

 

Most were about the history of his master's lands. Some were about Amun himself but Amunet's favorites were the accounts of what Amun had created and how he had done it. The Hound didn't understand much of it, in reality it was mostly accounts of how Amun had scooped up some air and suddenly there was something new. None of it seemed helpful in even a little bit, but it made his mistress happy and so he was happy.

 

Until one day it didn't. One text in particular mentioned another goddess. Mut.

 

Amunet seemed less eager to read after that, and turned her attention elsewhere.

 

“I think, I could do what he does. If I could just see him do it maybe I could too,” she told him one day as he stood by her side on her balcony. He didn't understand what she meant until she knelt next to him.

 

“When he comes next time, I'll watch,” she promised. He barked an objection, terrified that Amun would know and that it would anger him. He liked being in control and the Hound did not want Amun to hurt her more than he already did.

 

“It will be okay. He won't know. I'll just stand behind the curtain, like I always do,” she smiled and rested her forehead against his.

 

He didn't like it. Didn't like that she risked so much for no reason. He pulled his head free and walked off to signal his displeasure.

 

“I want to hear your voice. I want to see your face. Aren't you tired of this,” she begged to his back. He felt her close the distance between them, felt her fall to her knees behind him and once more he felt shame for what he'd brought her to.

 

But he could not control her, and unlike Amun, he didn't want to. She was right, he did want to talk to her. He did want to look at her with his own eyes, though it had been so long he wasn't sure if he would even feel like himself anymore. Maybe the Hound was who he actually was now.

 

It didn't happen quickly though. Amun had taken to leaving them alone for years. He'd moved into a new palace where the Hound was certain this Mut had also taken up residence. It only bothered him that Amun wouldn't release Amunet, they were doing fine without him.

 

Amunet pressed her warm body into his fur every night, and kissed his forehead every morning. She brushed his fur and he licked her cheek. He supposed he was one very lucky dog as she fed him scraps of her decadent meals.

 

But he felt like more of a pet than a man and as time went on he wondered if she was forgetting again.

 

More time passed and he wondered if he was more of a pet than a man.

 

Then one day Amun came back. He did his horrible trick and the pain was unbearable. The Hound had forgotten just how much it hurt, or maybe the length of time spent as a beast had made his human side too weak.

 

It dropped him to his knees and stole his breath. Darkness hovered over his eyes as sounds he didn't know he was capable of making escaped his lungs.

 

“Don't. You're hurting him,” he heard her cry out.

 

“Stay where you are. What does this creature's suffering mean to you,” Amun demanded.

 

The Hound pried his human eyes open and caught her attention from across the room. He prayed she would not give her heart away and her eyes seemed to catch his thoughts.

 

“Nothing, my love. It means nothing. I just wouldn't want to bother you with having to find a replacement.”

 

Amun smiled and the Hound closed his eyes again.

 

“He seems rather weak. I'm not sure he can protect you anymore.”

 

Amun grew quiet for a moment as the Hound fought his way to his knees and turned his eyes to the floor in submission.

 

“Speak,” he finally ordered a moment later and the Hound obeyed. His throat felt like fire as the words tumbled from his lips.

 

“All is well, master.”

 

“She sees no one?”

 

“None but the maids you send her.”

 

“She has no secret desires?”

 

“None but for your return.”

 

“No one touches her?”

 

“Only you, my lord.”

 

“Do you desire her, beast?”

 

The Hound tried not to react, but his master's question was new. In the countless years he'd been guarding Amunet the questions had always been the same, and it had been easy to answer them.

 

It was that moment his blessing became his curse.

 

He could not lie to his master. The beast in him would not allow disloyalty. Amun had known that from the start. It was why he had made him a hound and not some other creature.

 

“I desire her happiness.”

 

Amunet stepped back and braced herself against the bed in surprise. The Hound prayed his death would be quick.

 

Amun just laughed.

 

“She is a beautiful woman,” he directed his gaze at Amunet. “Come show him, my love. Come show him your happiness.”

 

This time, he did not return the Hound to his beast form or go behind the curtain.

 

“Stay,” he ordered and the Hound found himself bound with invisible bonds. His master had given him an order and he could not defy it.

 

Not even to stop what was happening mere feet from him. Not to stop Amunets cries of pain as he stripped her in front of him and forced her to her knees, hitting and kicking at her. Laughing as he assaulted her.

 

Not to stop her tears of shame as he took what he wanted, just inches from the Hound and then left her.

 

“You are mine. Both of you. You can desire her all you want, Hound. She'll never be yours,” Amun threw over his shoulder and with a flick of his wrist pain ripped him in half and twisted his form back to that of the beast.

 

He came back the next day. And the one that followed. He left her bleeding the third day. On the fourth he promised that each transformation would be more painful and on the fifth he proved himself correct.

 

The morning of the sixth she rolled over next to him, still on the floor where he had left them.

 

“He'll kill you. If you keep telling him the truth, he'll kill you.”

 

He whimpered, very aware that her words were true but knowing he had no way around it.

 

“Trust in me,” she whispered and he licked her cheek weakly as she brushed her fingers through his new coat. “If you love me, give your loyalty to me.”

 

He wished it was that simple, that he could just make the magic that bound him transfer into her hands. He would give her anything she desired, he had no other choice. This woman owned him just as much as his master, if not more. He whimpered again and placed his paw on her battered arm.

 

This time when Amun asked, “Do you desire her, beast?”

 

New words came out.

 

“I desire to serve you.”

 

Amun seemed content but still forced him to watch as he raped her, though her eyes didn't turn away in shame. They met his in a silent promise.

 

He was hers now. Amun could still control him, but not entirely. Now her wishes bound him tightly and he found he didn't mind his new chains.

 

Amun came again the next day but seemed to be tired of his new game already and didn't even bother to turn him. His visits dwindled again and it wasn't long before they were left alone.

 

Her bruises healed, and the things Amun had tried to destroy only seemed to grow.

 

“Come here, Hound,” she whispered one morning from her bed. “I want to try something.”

 

He knew what she wanted to try. He knew that even as Amun had been ripping him a part, she had been paying attention. He worried about the risk, and about the pain, but his paws led him to her bed anyway.

 

She scratched behind his ears with a smile.

 

“Don't worry so much,” she teased then closed her eyes to concentrate.

 

Nothing happened.

 

She tried again, and still nothing.

 

It became her new past time. A way to keep them both from losing their minds. He stopped worrying about the pain and the possibility of discovery when he stopped thinking it might happen. She had one of her handmaidens smuggle in more forbidden texts.

 

“It will work,” she'd vow with one hand on his chest and one holding open a scroll.

 

Amun came back and she played the little seductress. Trying to cajole secrets from him, perched on his lap. It amused him and so he'd play along, but secretly the Hound knew his master would give nothing away. The game was not about her pleasing him, it was about torturing the beast in front of them.

 

Amun never turned him anymore.

 

“Do you think he knows, pet?” She questioned one morning after Amun had left them. “Is that why he doesn't turn you anymore?”

 

The Hound only howled in response.

 

Then finally one night, as the full moon filled the sky, it worked.

 

He sat across from her on the bed, her touch was light and gentle, and he felt no pain as his body transformed back into that of a man. She laughed with glee as he stared at his hands. His legs on either side of her as she knelt in front of him.

 

“It worked,” she sighed then immediately fell to the bed, exhaustion claiming her.

 

“Amunet!” His voice was rough from disuse as he reached for her.

 

“Say it again,” she pushed passed the darkness that threatened to take her.

 

“Amunet,” he whispered into her ear as her eyes fought sleep. “Amunet. Amunet. Amunet.”

 

“I just need to rest my eyes,” she mumbled as he drew the sheet over her body. He turned to leave her but she grabbed his arms.

 

“Stay with me, nothing has changed,” she smiled her tug on him weak but certain.

 

He felt the change in the pit of his stomach. She was wrong, everything had changed. But he lay next to her anyway. Watched her chest rise and fall in slumber. The desire in him only growing with each breath until finally, exhausted, he closed his eyes.

 

In the morning he was back to his usual furry self and she was distraught.

 

“I don't understand what happened.”

 

She wrapped her arms around him and held him as she tried again and again to recreate the miracle of the night before.

 

With no luck.

 

She tried for most of the morning until he broke away from her.

 

“I'm sorry,” she cried out before turning around to bury her face in the pillows. “I'm so sorry.”

 

She spent the rest of the day inconsolable and when night fell he rested his head the the pillow next to her and nuzzled her cheek.

 

“I'll fix it,” she promised.

 

He wanted to tell her it wasn't broken. That if this was their life he could be content as long as she was. That if their existence was this room, he could be happy to never leave it. With fur or without.

 

She didn't give up trying and one night it happened again. It took less out of her but she still only managed to stay awake for mere minutes after the transformation.

 

“I don't want to wake up and have you gone,” she protested as he pushed her back to the bed.

 

“I'm with you, always,” he promised, knowing that in the morning he would be returned to his previous form.

 

Still he held her for as long as he could before the sun rose and he became who he'd been before.

 

When she woke he could see the disappointment in her eyes, but also a new hope.

 

It didn't take her long after that to come to the conclusion that the transformation would only work on nights when the moon was full. So she made a count down to the next opportunity and each time it worked it taxed her less and less and his belief in what she was doing grew stronger.

 

Maybe she was right, maybe they could break the curse.

 

But still each dawn found him back in his hound form.

 

“Talk to me,” she'd beg when he laid her gently on the sheets after his body settled into human form, so he would fill her waking minutes with the voice she so desperately craved.

 

He didn't know if she actually cared for his words or if the simple human interaction was all she desired. He never had long enough to ask her. Until one night instead of begging him to speak she whispered words he never thought he'd hear another person say to him.

 

“I love you.”

 

“Darling Amunet, you don't even know me,” he sighed, not for the first time wished he could have more than moments with her.

 

“I've had over a hundred years with you and only you. You've held me long into the night and wiped away my tears. You believed in me. If this is all we get, it's enough.”

 

But it wasn't enough for him any longer and so after she fell asleep he found the scrolls and began the long process of trying to find anything they had missed. He hoped that as a man his mind might be clearer, but it was slow going and as the sun began to rise he hurried back to her side and slipped under the sheets to feel her next to him one last time before the change took over.

 

She woke, and smiled at him, tangling her fingers in his long hair and marveling at the way his eyes flashed a million promises.

 

“I was hoping I didn't miss you. Next time maybe we'll have more time. I'm getting stronger. I think maybe if someone--” she stopped and watched as his body once more reverted to his beastly form.

 

He nuzzled her cheek and she sighed.

 

“I'm a goddess with no real power. If we could just change that.”

 

It occurred to him that if she could get someone else to believe maybe it would help. Before he'd become her guardian, he'd spent some time observing Amun and it seemed that the god grew in strength with the people's adoration.

 

But he knew that Amunet was not likely to get that same gift and for the first time it became clear just why Amun would not let her go and let her speak to no one.

 

He hid her because he was afraid of her power. He was afraid that if people made offerings, and built alters her power would grow. He hid her because he wanted her defenseless and weak.

 

Which meant he was not likely to ever let her go and the Hound didn't know how to change it.

 

He spent the time until his next transformation trying to come up with a way to let the people outside of her cage know her. If they knew how kind and gentle she was, how loving and giving, they would not be able to do anything but love her and maybe then she could have the strength she needed.

 

“The people need to know you,” he blurted out as soon as his tongue would let him.

 

“I've missed talking to you, too,” she teased and eased herself back against the pillows she'd propped up as the sun began to set. He stood and started to pace.

 

“No, it's just that if they love you and worship you like they do with Amun I think it would give you the strength you need.”

 

“Come back over here, love. I need you closer.”

 

“I think it could work,” he said as he sat by her side. She placed her hand on his thigh and he moved a pillow to his lap, aware of his lack of clothing for the first time since that horrible night when her eyes burned him.

 

“You've never been shy before,” she smiled but pulled her hand away.

 

“You've been asleep before,” he admitted but grabbed her hand and pulled it to his chest. “It's disrespectful.”

 

“It's lovely. I don't mind.” Her fingers curled with his and he squeezed her hand.

 

“You should.” He turned his eyes away from her face, he knew he was not worthy of her adoration

 

“It upsets you? My feelings for you?” she asked as she brought her free hand to his cheek.

 

“I'm no one. I don't even have a name of my own.”

 

“Iah,” she soothed. “Iah, because you came to me in my darkest hour.”

 

He smiled and pressed his lips to the back of her hand.

 

She wanted to name him after the brightest thing in the night sky.

 

“Wake me before the sun rises. I feel stronger, I only need to rest a moment.”

 

She asked it of him every time, and in the beginning he tried desperately to do just that. But it seemed as if some magic held her in it's spell and he had no force over it.

 

“I will,” he promised as she slipped into sleep. “One day I will, my stubborn sweet little scorpion.”

 

While she slept he built her an alter out of pillows and silks and knelt in front of it. He'd nothing to offer her except himself and he didn't know how to offer himself in a less literal way. Casting his eyes around the room he saw that one of her handmaidens had left a basket of mending and tucked within it was a sharp bone needle.

 

He placed a clay bowl on his alter and jabbed the needle into his finger. Watched as a few drops spilled in and then sat back and waited.

 

He vaguely recalled words of praise being offered at temples in his youth and so he did his best to mumble through a few words of thanks and gratitude. Not knowing how long he was supposed to sit in front of her alter he decided that the longer the better, so when she spoke near dawn it startled him.

 

“What are you doing, Iah?”

 

He fell back and his foot hit the alter causing the bowl to clatter to the floor. Curious she pulled herself from her bed and carefully knelt at his side.

 

“You shouldn't get up,” he chided and she brushed it aside as she picked up the bowl and saw the droplets of blood.

 

“What is this?” she asked, pressing her finger to the almost dried blood and then pressing it to her lips before he could stop her.

 

“An offering.”

 

She dropped the bowl and grabbed his hands, his pricked finger still bled and she felt the moisture in her hand.

 

“I don't need you to bleed for me,” she argued and placed his finger between her lips, sucking gently, her little tongue flicking over the wound.

 

“It worked,” he nearly growled and her blue eyes widened at the sound. “You're awake.”

 

He pulled his hands from hers and gripped her waist, pulling her to him so she straddled his lap.

 

“You're awake,” he repeated in awe.

 

She smiled and cupped his face in her hands.

 

“So are you,” she cooed and rested her weight against the part of him that was always very aware of her presence.

 

Then she pressed her lips to his and he thought the pleasure would kill him.

 

Her lips were urgent against his and he fought to stay upright. It had been far too long, he'd almost forgotten the taste and feel of a woman. The way she gasped for air then returned to him, the softness of her skin, the grind of her hips. Her fingers in his hair. He cataloged every moment.

 

She laughed against his lips and he held her closer, breathed her in.

 

“I love you,” he confessed. “You are my whole world.”

 

She placed one more kiss against his lips then pulled back to meet his eyes.

 

“We have to leave this place. If Amun finds out he will kill you and you my darling hound, are still bonded to him,” she laced his fingers with hers and marveled at how her hands fit in his.

 

“The compulsion is getting weaker,” he protested, squeezing her hands.

 

She looked him in the eyes and waited, as if calculating some truth from his expression.

 

“But it will never be weak enough to fool him. Will it?” she asked as if she were already certain of the answer.

 

He knew she was. It had been made painfully clear with each new visit. He had no power to stand against Amun.

 

“No, but we have no where to run,” he sighed resting his forehead against hers. “He wants you here where you are weak. You'll need more than my blood to stand against him.”

 

“Let me worry about that part,” she whispered against his lips as if trying to distract him. He didn't fall for her ploy and after a quick peck he pulled back.

 

“I worry. You can be a bit reckless,” he chided thinking about all the times she came close to being caught in her search for more scrolls, or the fact that she never knew when Amun would just decide to stop in yet she insisted on turning him every full moon. Trying to turn him in the first place had been reckless enough.

 

Or the way she would push her luck with Amun every time now. It terrified him the way she'd try and pry information out of the god.

 

Amun only played along because it amused him. Eventually he'd grow tired of it and she would be the one who paid for it.

 

“You've never said anything before,” she pointed out pretending innocence.

 

“No, you just like to pretend you don't understand when I object,” he clarified with a quick peck. It seemed her lips were more irresistible then he'd first thought. Which was probably going to be a real problem for him in the future.

 

In reality he always objected very loudly and he knew she knew it too.

 

“Well there should be some benefit to not being able to hear your voice all the time,” she said, the last bit coming out on a yawn.

 

“You should lie down.”

 

She placed her head on his should and cuddled closer.

 

“Here is fine,” she murmured against his chest then kissed his skin. His arms tightened around her and she was snoring in seconds.

 

He'd never tell her she snored, but he'd always found it adorable, having her in his arms only made it more so.

 

He sat with her until he could feel the change coming, then quickly rose and carried her to her bed. Laying her gently down, he crawled up next to her and rested his head over her heart, letting its beat soothe him as he turned.

 

As it turned out, Amunet's plan was more than reckless, it was downright dangerous.

 

“We have to prove I'm a goddess worthy of worship,” she told him the next morning as she sipped her tea. “If I could give a handmaiden her tongue back then they would all follow me to the ends of the world.”

 

He hated her morning tea. It made her do and say stupid things and it made her more compliant when Amun came to her bed. It made her a different person and he was sure that was why Amun introduced it to her. He'd shown her handmaidens how to turn the beautiful blue flowers into the beverage and since then she'd become increasingly infatuated with it.

 

She had to know that Amun would kill any girl who was blessed with this “gift” from the goddess.

 

“What do you think?” she asked as she ran her fingers through his fur.

 

He only growled. She laughed.

 

“Don't worry.”

 

But he did worry, and it only got worse as every day she seemed more intent in following through with her plan. She'd quiz him about which handmaiden would be the best suited for the task.

 

Amun visited and she'd shared her tea with him, welcomed him to her bed, and asked him to teach her how to control her divine gifts in a simpering sweet voice. He'd told her she had to earn her gifts, then bent her over the bed again.

 

It was an image Iah, was sure would haunt him for the rest of time.

 

When Amun left without showing her anything, she drank enough tea to knock herself out and then spent the next two weeks in the throes of its intoxicating grip. He sat by her side and growled every time a handmaiden brought more tea, but she would just laugh and fill her cup again.

 

“We all have our vices,” she'd tease and scratch behind his ears.

 

By the time the moon was full again he was done playing games with her and the first thing he did when she turned him was knock the cup she hadn't even bothered to put down for his transformation, out of her hand.

 

“That is changing you,” he growled pointing at the offending liquid.

 

“No, it's the only thing that's keeping me sane,” she countered and picked up the cup. “I'm not arguing with you about this,” she continued as she held the cup out to him. “Fill it, Hound,” she ordered.

 

“No.”

 

He watched her eyes widen in surprise.

 

“I won't help you destroy yourself,” he added.

 

“I won't have to, darling. Amun is doing a fine job of that himself,” she pouted then threw the cup at him before turning her back to him and closing her eyes.

 

“You will not die while I'm here. You will not surrender while I live. If I have one purpose in my cursed life, it's that,” he vowed to her turned back.

 

“You are one man,” she whispered.

 

“I'm more than that and you know it.”

 

She didn't answer him after that or wake up again that night, even when he built her another alter and sliced his palm open, offering her a hundred prayers and all of his heart. Even if he could give her enough strength, he was certain the blue lotus would keep her under its spell for well into the next day.

 

When she finally did wake though, she seemed stronger, and he noticed she did not refill her cup.

 

She did not give up the habit entirely though, and he worried it would follow them for the rest of time.

 

“There is a darkness in me,” she whispered to the ceiling as he sat by her bed. “It grows with each day and I don't know how to stop it,” she turned to face him.

 

“I fear one day it will consume us both.”

 

Her words haunted him every time she became withdrawn and sullen. Every time she put that cursed cup to her lips. Every time Amun would smile as if he knew some secret.

 

The next time she changed him, he felt it in her. A terrifying dark hole that snapped back at him under her touch. He could not hide his reaction to the sharp pain that shot through him.

 

“Did I hurt you?” she asked, her hands running over his human form as if searching for injury.

 

“Not much. It's alright,” he soothed but was unable to forget the feeling. It felt like Amun.

 

She spent her waking moments with words of atonement and he spent the rest of the night in prayer for her soul.

 

Amun came three times that week and each time seemed to leave a little lighter, while she seemed stained by his visit. Like he had left his sins in her body or had sucked her light from her throat with his brutal kisses.

 

She lost her temper with her handmaidens frequently after that and had even become cross with him a time or two.

 

But something else happened as well. A flicker of power seemed to rise within her.

 

It happened one afternoon when one of her handmaidens hadn't been fast enough with her tea. His ears hurt from the volume of her chastisement and he had turned his eyes from the affair. He hated when she lost control, but this time was the worst he'd ever seen her.

 

He heard the smack from across the room and knew that it would leave a mark, but it was the odd choking sound that followed that had him turning around to see the poor servant hanging in the air, suspended by nothing and clawing at her throat.

 

He growled furiously and watched as Amunet jumped back startled. The girl fell to the floor and he rushed at her. He had no intention of hurting the girl, his only thoughts were of getting her away from whatever or whoever was hurting her.

 

The girls had always been terrified of his large and beast like appearance and this handmaiden was no exception. She ran from the room as quickly as she could.

 

He turned to face Amunet who was bracing herself against the table.

 

“I didn't mean to... I don't know...” she stuttered and reached for him and he felt her power jolt through him.

 

He snarled and snapped, unable to stop himself. His jaw ached as if his teeth were growing and his paws felt as if knives were shooting out of them.

 

He looked down and saw her rage manifesting in him.

 

He was her creature.

 

Her eyes widened in fear and she sank to the ground, truly shaken.

 

“Oh my love, what have I done to you?”

 

He felt the rage subside and the pain eased. She reached for him and he hurried to her side. She held on to him long into the night, whispering her regret.

 

He worried it was too late to save her.

 

She didn't touch the tea for a long time after that, but she did not appear to regain any of her former lightness. She did her best to soothe the poor handmaiden, but it had been enough to make the other handmaiden's leery as well.

 

They brought her gifts to appease her, though she needed no appeasing and it enraged Amun.

 

“They fear you! You! Harmless with no power! How do they fear you! What did you do!” he threw her door open screaming. Then with a twist of his wrist he turned to his hound.

 

“Speak!” he demanded. “Why do they fear her?”

 

“The tea. It makes something horrible--” he tried to blame anything else but Amun's fist slamming into his face stopped him from commenting further.

 

“You will not touch him,” Amunet's voice was cold and hard from the other side of the room. “You did this.”

 

He could feel the air between them, like opposing forces locked in a death grip.

 

Then Amun laughed and the tension disappeared.

 

“I did. You wanted power, my love. I only gave you what you desired. Come closer.”

 

Iah watched as Amunet came across the room to her master.

 

“Did you think it would cost you nothing? You are part of me, any power you have is mine and I am a vengeful god,” his voice echoed through the room as he grabbed her jaw in his hand. “I will kill them all and then your power will be mine again. I will kill anyone who speaks your name, including your mutt.”

 

“Please,” she begged as he tossed her to the side like she weighed nothing. Then turned his anger back on her guardian.

 

“How should we kill you, hound?” he asked and Amunet clawed at Amun's ankles to try and keep him in place.

 

“I will give you anything. Please, he did nothing wrong,” she begged.

 

Iah felt his body lifting from the ground, a vice around his throat. He saw his feet dangle helplessly in front of him and recalled that same power holding Amunet's handmaiden just days earlier. He felt certain he would not live this time.

 

But somehow he did. Amun took his time to torture him while Amunet's screams rang in the background. Iah could only watch and feel as his body was torn apart and put back together as the two fought over his future.

 

He did not know how long the ordeal lasted only that Amunet dropped to the floor first and Amun lost interest with no one to see the destruction.

 

“She may love you, Hound. But you are my creature too. My darkness is in you just as it is in her,” he warned as he turned him back into the hound he'd created. “Care for your mistress.”

 

Every part of him hurt but he managed to make his way across the room and collapse by her side as Amun left.

 

He woke to new handmaidens and her tender touch.

 

“He taught me how to create,” she smiled.

 

He didn't appreciate being her first lesson and he growled.

 

“I know, but it's done and I don't believe that it's all darkness. You are not darkness. I could not love you if you were.”

 

But something in him was different and he felt it like he had felt it in her, and in Amun. Something had changed and he was afraid he would never be able to claim that part of his soul again.

 

“Do you ever think what it would be like to be like other people? Normal people,” she asked him one night when she woke to find him at his makeshift alter again.

 

“We are not like others,” he answered and turned back to his worship. She felt her heart grow stronger and she knew Amun was wrong.

 

His power was given through fear. Hers could be given through love. If she was from him she could be the lightness to his darkness. She didn't have to be like him.

 

And so she began again. He watched silently as once more she tried to bring something beautiful to the darkness. But he wasn't the only one watching this time.

 

“Look,” she'd call from the balcony and he'd join her to see her help a flower bloom.

 

“See, it's not all bad,” as she caught a falling cup without using her hands.

 

“I think I can do this,” as she mended the wing of a wounded bird.

 

He fought against his trepidation. It wasn't like before, she wasn't hurting people, she was helping. He wanted to believe she was right, but something inside still did not feel right.

 

“What's wrong?” she asked him one night as he lay beside her.

 

“I don't want you to do it,” he whispered, grabbing her hand from where it rested next to him. His eyes on the ceiling as she turned toward him and ran her fingertips across his chest.

 

“Why, love? Must we always be his prisoners then?” she asked then placed a kiss above his heart.

 

“Something isn't right. I don't know what, but it feels like a trap,” he said turning to face her.

 

“He doesn't know,” she whispered.

 

“He always knows,” he objected.

 

“Not always. Do you think he would let you lie next to me as a man? Do you think he would let me kiss you?” she asked then placed his hand on her breast. “Do you think he would let you hold me like a woman?”

 

Iah knew he wouldn't, but he also knew enough to know that Amun was not the kind of god to be trifled with. He knew that just because he wasn't breaking down the door, didn't mean he wouldn't damn them in the end.

 

“There are always consequences, Amunet. We can't escape them forever.”

 

“We can try,” she murmured as her eyes close.

 

“One day you'll stay awake long enough for me to show you some real consequences,” he teased as he kissed her cheek.

 

“I can't wait,” she sighed.

 

 

When they woke the next morning he was still a man and Amun was smiling at the foot of her bed.

 

“Did you enjoy your last night together?” Amun asked and Amunet's hands flew up as if to push him away. He only laughed and flicked at the air like he was flicking away an annoying fly. Her wrists flew together and Iah watched as she was pulled across the bed by them.

 

Amun's hands wrapped around her tiny wrists.

 

“Did you let him fuck you?” he asked.

 

“No,” she cried out as if in pain. Iah was on his knees with his hands trying to pry her wrists free before he knew what had happened.

 

Amun watched for a moment before he threw him across the room.

 

The hound in him yelped out but his body remained human, his bones fractured and splintered as he lay helpless on the ground.

 

“I'll give you a choice Hound. It's the best deal you're getting out of this. I'll let you live, but you will be banished from her side. You will be trapped in your human form, except for nights when the moon is full. You will be forever cursed. Your need to protect Amunet will never die, I can't take that from you she has made you hers, but you will never be with her. You will always love her, she owns your soul, you gave it to her in your stupidity. She is the only one who can set you free from that and I don't think she has the strength required to remove that curse,” he smirked at Amunet before continuing.

 

“Or...” he turned back to his hound. “I kill her and I remove your curse.”

 

“I'll let him go,” Amunet promised.

 

“I'll do it,” he choked out. “Don't hurt her.”

 

“I was hoping you'd choose that,” Amun snapped and Iah found himself alone in a broken pile, on the banks of a river where he stayed wishing for death for what felt like an eternity.

 

He prayed for death to take him, but he knew it wouldn't.

 

 

 

“What have you done with him,” Amunet cried out.

 

“What I promised,” Amun answered. “You shouldn't have betrayed me.”

 

Then he left her.

 

Alone.

 

For a very long time.

 

 

 

Eventually Iah's body healed enough for him to make his way to a cave on the other side of the river, where, just like Amun promised, he found himself turning into something different than the hound he was before.

 

This creature liked to hunt. It craved the darkness and gore of the kill. He could not control it and it was insatiable. He'd wake up in the morning surrounded by death and it would make him sick. He prayed to her, offered her sacrifices, and killed in her name. As a man his sacrifices were clean and pure, but as the beast he had no control over the dark offerings.

 

She felt them and grew in strength, but alone her darkness grew unchecked.

 

Her sorrow drowned the love, and her misery choked out any hope. Food and drink appeared but no one delivered them. Amun never graced her door. Madness wrapped it's arms around her and consumed her.

 

He spent his days trying to find his way back to her. Trying to save her from the darkness he could feel growing in her even in the far off land Amun had delivered him to.

 

As Amunet's madness grew her control over her power dwindled, the land died around them. Sickness and death tormented the people. And as Iah got closer his curse grew worse.

 

He became blind to the screams around him, deaf to the death he caused.

 

Amun was delighted and as a final gift led Iah back to his love.

 

“Did you choose wisely?” Amun asked the beast and the beast howled and tried to kill.

 

But Amun was a god and Iah was no longer even a man.

 

That was Amun's mistake.

 

She was waiting for him on her balcony. She smiled and called him to her.

 

“Hound, look,” she gestured at the destruction she'd laid at their feet. “Look at what we made.”

 

He howled as she ran her fingertips through his fur and scratched behind his ears.

 

As dawn broke the beast was lifted and Iah lay at Amunet's feet.

 

“Iah?” she asked, confused.

 

“Close your eyes, my little scorpion. Close your eyes.”

 

When he plunged the dagger in her heart, he could not kill her. She was a god and he was her creature.

 

They were forever tied like Amun had promised.

 

“You have to let go, it's the only way you can be free,” he murmured against her forehead as she slumped against him and blood covered his hands.

 

“I will find you in another life,” she sighed and did as he asked.

 

Amun was not amused as he watched his greatest creation choose death.

 

“You will never be free of her now,” he vowed as he ripped Iah's body apart like the beast that he'd become.

 

As Amun had vowed, he wasn't. And as Amunet had promised, she did.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

“ _Whatever you have done. Whoever you have made yourself. I'm here to accept you.”_

 

“ _You know what I am.”_

 

“ _And here I stand.”_

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 


End file.
